


Life Cycle

by beanko



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kids, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2536139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beanko/pseuds/beanko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco's pet bird dies, and Jean tries to cheer him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Cycle

Jean wasn't much of the comforting type. It was more him getting comforted, whether it be because he had skinned his knee and his mother was bandaging him up, or Marco was telling him silly stories because Jean had a nightmare at their sleepover.

But for once, Jean wasn't the one crying- Marco was. And Jean had no idea what to do.

Marco was full-out sobbing, tears streaming down his freckled cheeks as he stood in front of the small lump of dirt that was the makeshift grave of his pet bird, Sal. Marco had lovingly decorated the grave with tiny flowers he had plucked from his mother's yard and a half-broken stick with "Goodbye Sal" carved onto it.

In all honesty, Jean had hated that bird. It was a bully. The first time they had met, it had tried to scratch Jean's eyes out. Marco had waved it off with an apology and a "he does that to everyone."

But his mother had taught him to respect the dead, so Jean bowed his head as Marco bawled.

They had held a funeral earlier, with both Jean's and Marco's mothers in attendance, dressed in black. Marco had written a eulogy and had attempted to read it; but not only was he unable to decipher some of his own handwriting, he was also crying too much to read it properly. So Jean had read it for him. It was, in Jean's opinion, sappy and went on very long (something he'd never say to Marco's face) but it was also very heartwarming and sweet (something else he would never say to Marco's face).

Their mothers had left them alone so they could "say their goodbyes." Jean had no desire to say anything to the dumb bird, but stayed for Marco's sake.

Now, Marco seemed to be calming down, his sobs dying into hiccups. He plopped himself in front of the grave and hugged his knees to his chest. 

 

Jean sat down next to him. "I'm sorry about Sal."

Marco sniffled and rubbed his nose against his sleeve. "Not. You hated Sal."

"That's not true!" Jean exclaimed. "I loved him just as much as you! I'm just as sad, too, look-" He squinted his eyes and scrunched his nose in an effort to make tears squeeze out, but nothing happened. Marco broke into a tiny, watery smile, and even laughed a bit.

Good. Jean was worried Marco wasn't ever going to laugh or smile again, and as his best friend, that would be very problematic.

Marco's smile melted off his face as he stared at the grave. "Sal deserves a better grave than this," he whispered. "I'm a horrible pet owner."

Marco's bottom lip began to tremble, and without further warning, he burst into tears again. 

Seeing someone normally so stable and gentle break down was disorienting for Jean. He was unsure of what to do, but when he was sad, his mom hugged him. That seemed to help. 

So, Jean reached out, and looped his arms around Marco, drawing him in close awkwardly into an embrace. He was expecting Marco to just sit and quiet down; maybe even pull away. Jean was not expecting Marco to throw his arms around him, grasping the back of his shirt, and burying his face into Jean's shoulder.

Thank goodness Marco was a bit smaller than him, making it slightly less awkward.

 

Marco continued to sob, gripping Jean's shirt even tighter. Jean was unsure of what to do. So, he went with his instincts. Jean rubbed Marco's back soothingly with one hand, and stroked Marco's hair with the other.

Soon, the sniffles began to subside, and Marco's breathing evened out. Marco withdrew himself, rubbing his eyes. 

"Oh, 'm sorry, Jean, I got your shirt all wet."

Jean glanced at his shoulder, now damp. "Nah, it's fine."

Marco leaned back on the grass, staring up at the sky. It was a lovely shade of light blue, dotted with clouds that looked like puffs of paint among a tapestry of sky.

"The clouds look like candy," he said dreamily.

Jean leaned down next to him. "Yeah, they do. Makin' me hungry."

Marco frowned as he watched birds flutter overhead. "Why'd Sal have to die?"

Jean shrugged. "Everything dies. That's what my mom told me. Stuff is born, it lives, then it dies. Called the cycle of life."

Wide-eyed, Marco turned to face Jean. "But Sal was only, like, five! That makes us-" he counted on his small, pudgy fingers- "only four years older than him! So why aren't we dead yet? Why is Sal dead and not us?"

"Everyone's got it different, I guess." Jean explained. "Like how dogs have dog years. So birds have bird years too."

Marco turned his attention back towards the sky, brows furrowed. "If everything just dies in the end... Why do anything? If you're just gonna, y'know, die?"

Jean stared up at the sky, and was silent for some time. "Because... I guess, if we're already here n' stuff, why waste what we've got?"

"...Jean, I'm scared to die."

"Me, too."

Jean felt a hand brush against his own, and he took it, and held it tight. 

"Jean, how's this? When we're all old, lets die together. That way, when we gotta become ghosts or whatever we do when we die, we won't have to be alone. We'll still be together."

Jean squeezed Marco's hand. "Yeah, that sounds awesome."

"You promise me, that's what we'll do, right, Jean?"

"Yup."

"Pinky promise?"

"Marco, we're too old for-"

"No, you gotta pinky promise, or it doesn't count. You gotta."

With a sigh, Jean hooked Marco's pinky with his own. "Pinky promise."

"Cross your heart and hope to die?" Marco asked solemnly.

Jean rolled his eyes. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

Marco was smiling wide now. "Thank you, Jean. I feel better now."

He scooted closer, close enough that their bodies were almost pressed together, and their hands rejoined, their fingers intertwining. 

It was a particularly warm day, and Jean felt his eyelids growing heavy. 

When he glanced next to him, Marco already appeared to be fast asleep, his breathing steady and his eyes closed.

Jean shifted, just barely, and Marco's grip on his hand tightened a little. 

"Remember, Jean, it's a promise." he murmured.

Jean nodded as he began to drift off as well.

 

"Yeah. Promise."

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic, so feedback is appreciated. (This is like my eighth time rewriting this I kept accidentally deleting it)


End file.
